


no i'll never forget (i just wanted to be near you)

by glitterfreezing



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, dear studio mir make my dreams come true, goodbye this is so gay and i'm so gay, i'm crying i love my kids so much, lance is Super Deep when he wants to be, please take this garbàge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7344163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterfreezing/pseuds/glitterfreezing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> "He rests his chin atop Keith’s head and listens to him breathe. The stars are brilliant overhead, and Keith’s mouth is warm against the thin cotton of Lance’s shirt, and Lance wonders if this is what people mean when they say "second home."" </i> </p><p>lance and keith, on starting over, missing home, and love. </p><p>title from <i>eugene</i> by sufjan stevens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no i'll never forget (i just wanted to be near you)

_i_.

On planet Etha, the sunsets last for hours, dyeing the land hundreds of different colors. Allura was the one who’d suggested they’d land; her father once brought her there and she wanted to see if it was as beautiful she’d remembered. None of the beings living there recognized her, of course, but they’d welcomed the paladins with open arms—that is, if those weird stalks could be called arms—once they heard about their mission to defeat Zarkon.

The party was outlandish, set in the neon-lit ballroom of a castle and packed with pretty creatures. Hunk and Pidge even got ahold of some alien liquor, and Lance normally would have jumped into the centre of things. But an evening wind swept the scent of the nearby ocean to him, and that was all it took to make him leave, a familiar ache for Varadero settling into his bones. 

He’d hurried out of the palace and wandered until he found the shore. Kicked his shoes off and stood in the shallows, staring out over the horizon, the sun sliding beneath it and painting the water pink.

“Lance.”

Lance spins around to see who’s interrupted him. He knows it’s Keith, but he looks anyway.

(He can’t help it, really.)

“Hi,” he exclaims, louder than he wanted to, and scrambles out of the water. “What’re you doing here?”

Keith raises an eyebrow. He’s standing in the sand dunes, arms folded and feet bare. The fresh scar—thanks to a gang of interstellar smugglers—running from his left ear to his chin still startles Lance. “You’re acting weird.”

“Um,” Lance says, pointing at Keith’s torso. “Where are your clothes?”

Keith squints down at himself. “On...my body?”

“Your jacket.”

“Oh, Coran offered to clean my stuff. Limited wardrobe, bloodstains, y’know. Anyway, I wanted to get away from the party. Not really my thing after a while.” Keith slides down the dunes and lands in the patch of grass where Lance had abandoned his shoes. He digs his hands into the sand, letting it spill over his fingers, then glances back up. “Are you gonna be up there the whole time?”

Lance walks over tentatively and sits, wringing the water out of the cuffs of his jeans. He can’t _not_ watch Keith as he does; anyone would be distracted by the lean muscles moving in Keith’s back and the jut of his collarbones above the neckline of his shirt— _ok, Lance, enough_. 

“So,” Keith starts. Lance nearly jumps. He hadn’t expected Keith to talk, and now he’s sure he’ll be subjected to some personal verbal torture about Lance needs to pull more weight for the team, or Keith’s irritating man-crush on Shiro, or Lance’s latest rejection via Allura. _Great_.

But Keith isn’t continuing, so Lance looks over at him.

Keith’s hair is floating in the breeze, his skin golden in the sun, eyes shut. He seems more peaceful than Lance has ever seen him, and the soft light draws the past year from his features. Makes him seventeen and fire-bright again.

Lance wants to say something but the words catch in his throat. Instead, he faces the ocean and listens to the waves lap against the shore.

 _ii_.

Night falls.

“You’re gonna get cold,” Lance points out, gesturing at Keith’s bare arms. Keith scoffs, blowing his bangs off his forehead.

“I’m fine.”

“Ay, Varadero was warmer than here and still got freezing at night sometimes. Here—” Lance shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it in Keith’s direction.

Keith pulls it off his face, frowning as he studies the worn fabric. “What about you?”

“At least my shirt has _sleeves_. C’mon, hurry up and put it on before I change my mind.”

Keith scowls, but slips it on anyway. It’s big on him, the sleeves brushing his knuckles, his head nearly vanishing into its hood. His eyes flicker to Lance as if seeking approval.

Lance gives him a thumbs-up, ignoring his speeding pulse. “Cute.”

Keith rips off the hood and glares, a faint flush dusting his cheekbones.

“What? It is. You’re tiny, man.”

“I,” Keith growls, “am _five months older than you_. And only, like, an inch shorter.”

Lance grins. He leans over and pokes Keith’s side. “Still cute. Also, it's closer to two inches.”

“Fuck you,” Keith replies, but it sounds more fond than annoyed. He falls back into the grass, tucking his arms beneath his head. Lance hesitates, then pushes his shoes aside and joins him.

 _iii_.

“Hey,” Lance says after a few silent minutes. Maybe it's hours—time feels suspended here, under the stars. “Sorry.”

Keith’s breath catches, then evens out; he flips onto his side and Lance flinches in surprise. He didn't know Keith had been falling asleep. “For what?”

“I dunno, man,” Lance replies, flinging one arm towards the sky. “Being an idiot, I guess. Getting on everyone’s nerves.” He wasn’t expecting to say that, but something about tonight feels right.

Tonight, Keith feels like someone to tell secrets to.

“It’s okay.” Keith’s voice is quiet. Lance glances over at him, incredulous. Keith’s lips curve up to one side. It’s such a rare sight that Lance barely recognizes it as a smile. “Sometimes we need someone to annoy us. It gets us going, yeah? Livens things up.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks.” Lance stares at Keith for a little longer than he should, then holds out his fist. Keith presses his own to it, and, after a moment, crooks his pinky under Lance’s to pull his hand up, lacing their fingers together instead.

Lance laughs, more softly than he normally does, and lets go. 

_iv_.

“I miss the constellations—our constellations,” Lance blurts. “Orion and Pegasus and, uh, the bear-thing.”

“Ursa Minor,” Keith offers.

“Mm, that’s the one. Me and my _abuelita_ used to have contests on clear nights. Whoever spotted the most constellations in the shortest time won.”

“Won what?” Keith rolls over to look at him, heavy-lidded with exhaustion.

“I always won, so I always got extra desserts before bed. Now that I think about it, maybe she lost on purpose to make me feel better.”

Keith smiles again, this time more naturally. “You miss her, don’t you?”

Lance heaves a sigh. “I miss everything about home. The food—Coran’s stuff is like the space equivalent of _white people food!_ —and the warm weather even in winter and biking down to the beach, which was only a couple blocks away from my _abuelita_ 's house, with Maria—” 

“Maria. Your, uh, girlfriend, I guess.” Keith’s expression is unreadable.

“Nah, nah,” Lance laughs. “Contrary to what you might think, I wasn’t always so handsome and charming.” Keith scoffs, tipping his head back. Lance drags his gaze away from the elegant line of Keith’s neck and continues. “Never had much luck with the ladies in Varadero. Maria’s my younger sister.”

“Sister. Ah.” Keith’s eyelashes flutter and _God_ , they’re long, casting spidery shadows over his skin. “Just the one?”

“I’ve got three. Leyla and Nicole are the others. And two brothers, too; Mateo and Adrian. It’s a full house. I’m the oldest.” Lance fishes out the crumpled photograph from his pocket and holds it out to Keith.

“Wow,” Keith says, examining the faded print closely. “This one here. She looks a lot like you.”

“That’s Leyla. She’s a year younger than me.” Lance can’t help but grin down at his sister’s exaggerated pout.

“And, um,” Keith points to the heavily bearded man flashing a peace sign and the beaming woman clinging to his arm in the background. “Is that your mom and dad?”

“Yeah. This was taken four years ago, I think. Before—” Lance stops, his chest tight, eyes stinging. Everything falls back into place in his mind; the screeching of too-late brakes, hot wind sweeping ahead of headlights, a familiar voice shouting _Lance, mijo—_! Then shocked silence and pain and a blurred vision of his father lying motionless in the road.

Keith thankfully doesn’t pry. Just touches his arm lightly. “I’m sorry.”

“Well,” Lance scrubs at his eyes with his sleeve, then tucks the photo away. “I’m over it. You learn how to be after a while.” He stares up at the sky, so dark he feels like it’s swallowing him. “It’s like, you’ve got this hole in you, right? Going all the way through you. And it heals over with some time, and your muscles and bones eventually fix themselves, but it’s not exactly the same. ‘Cause you’ve got a scar. You still remember it happened. And you can’t forget it.”

Keith bites his lip. “I know. My parents, they—”

“ _Hey_ ,” Lance whispers, and impulsively reaches out, pulling Keith closer. “Don’t worry about it.”

Keith makes a noise of shock, muffled by his collision with Lance’s shoulder, but sinks into the half-hug anyway, right knee pressing into Lance’s left. His fists uncurl, landing flat and gentle on Lance’s chest. 

Lance wills his heartbeat to slow. He settles his chin atop Keith’s head and listens to him breathe.

The stars are brilliant overhead, and Keith’s mouth is warm against the thin cotton of Lance’s shirt, and Lance wonders if this is what people mean when they say “second home.”

 _v_.

“Keith? You awake?”

“Mm.”

“Can I ask you something weird?”

“Uh, I guess so.”

“Were you ever in love?”

“No. Not really. But—never mind.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think—maybe—you could be?”

_vi_.

Keith looks up. “What do you mean?” 

“I,” Lance starts, but he can’t remember his next words because Keith is so close that his hips are brushing Lance’s thighs. In the bluish moonlight he seems almost alien, all pale shadowy skin and hard edges. His hair, tousled from lying down, is plastered to one cheek.

“Did you want,” Keith tries, but his gaze falls to Lance’s mouth, still half-open with his effort to speak.

There’s a second of tension where Lance senses the sheer _want_ radiating from Keith and hears the thundering of his own heart against his ribs, where Keith’s breath hitches and lands on Lance’s collarbone, where Lance comes to the sudden, jolting, earth-shattering realization that—

He remembers, unexpectedly, vividly, the day they were sparring where he got ahold of Keith’s wrist and pinned it to the wall and felt Keith’s pulse _leap_ under his fingers.

“God,” Lance mutters, barely loud enough for himself to hear. “You love me, don't you?” 

“What? I didn't catch that—”

“Right. Let me try again, then,” Lance replies, trying desperately to sound lighthearted, to sound unbothered even though his every nerve feels electric. Keith doesn’t answer, just stares at him, his eyes glittering in the darkness, aching. 

In that moment Lance knows that Keith was lying when he said he’d never been in love.

“Listen to this. _Quieres besarme tanto como yo quiero besarte_ ,” Lance whispers, feeling as if he might ruin this if he raises his voice, “means do you want to kiss me as much—”

Keith lets out a quiet gasp, then instantly stifles it.

“...as I want to kiss you,” Lance finishes, a spark of hope running down his spine.

“Oh,” Keith says, and he brings one trembling hand up to Lance’s jaw. He's close enough that Lance can count the different shades of gray in his irises. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Well," Lance breathes, hardly daring to move. "Do I have to wait here all night?"

Keith grins. "I'm thinking about it."

Lance lets out a surprised laugh. "Never knew you could be funny!"

"There's a lot you don't know about me." Keith licks his bottom lip. 

"I'm hoping to change that very soon," Lance intones, lowering his eyelids dramatically.

Keith snorts. "You're so corny."

"It's called being _charming_ , sweetheart. Now, are you gonna kiss me?"

Keith grins again, flushed and glorious and breathtakingly happy. 

And he does.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) i'm so embarrassed this pairing is so typical of me but like.....what can u do  
> 2) when will i stop using sad songs and parentheses in my fic titles? the answer is never  
> 3) sorry for any spanish inaccuracies! i did my best,,  
> 4) also if u ever draw things from this shitty fic i would love to see them!!!
> 
>  **edit:** i'm explicitly anti-sheith (and anti-shaladin in general). i originally wrote in a line about keith being in love with shiro, but i've since removed it because shiro/paladin makes me extremely uncomfortable. i'm very sorry to any of my readers who feel the same way.


End file.
